Memoirs of a Writer
by Rose Eclipse
Summary: Rob Baker's POV from his first moments in moving to Brooklyn and meeting the Ghostwriter team. Based on the smash hit PBS series Ghostwriter from the early 90's.
1. Chapter 1

Dedicated to the kids of the 90's who tuned into _Ghostwriter_ every week to catch up with the team's cases, including myself. _Ghostwriter_ is a production of the Sesame Workshop (formerly known as the Children's Television Workshop) and British Broadcasting Corporation.

All poems mentioned have been quoted by their real authors unless stated otherwise.

Jason Baker is never mentioned or seen in the show but is mentioned in the _Ghostwriter_ book "Alias Diamond Jones" by Cristina Salat. He is not deceased, only attending a special school for deaf students away from the rest of his family.

A-A-A

The sound of the plane's wheels protruding from the belly of the metal monster made Rob's stomach lurch with uncertainty. He usually didn't mind flying so much but the added concern of relocating homes always heightened his sense of fear. The plane dipped down into the white clouds with a slight jolting motion.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are beginning our descent into the New York area. Please return to your seats and make sure all chairs are in upright positions." The captain's voice was accompanied by a crackle of static before shutting off.

Rob glanced out of the tiny window on his right and down at the sprawling layout of Manhattan. The sight of so many skyscrapers towering together resembled the Titans boasting atop Mount Olympus to him. The only sign of nature was a neat green rectangle that had been carefully nestled inside the bustling city.

"That's Central Park," his father said over his shoulder. "And down there is Shea Stadium. We could go into Queens sometime if you want to."

"And that must be Brooklyn down there," his mother added. She rubbed her hands together with anticipation. "Rob, isn't it wonderful? I can't wait to see our apartment up close."

From the look of the teen's face, you'd think he was calm and perhaps slightly bored at the scene. But inside his head, constant thoughts of doubt kept flickering restlessly.

The plane was getting closer and closer to the ground. Rob could see the cars zipping along highways and the sun's reflection ripple off the water in the harbor. Standing in the middle of the water was a small pale green figure of a woman. Rob recognized her at once:

_Give me your tired, your poor,  
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,  
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.  
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,  
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!_

It was from _The New Colossus_ written by Emma Lazarus in 1883. Always hungry for words, Rob loved to read and write probably more than anything else in the world. The feeling of putting a pen onto paper or having his fingers nimbly flying over a keyboard pouring out his throughts into poems and stories...

If only it was that easy to tell his parents. Rob's father had been transferred to the veteran's army office in New York while mother was accepting a position at an art gallery. Rob was going to attend a new middle school. But despite his father's assurance that everything would turn out more than satisfactory, Rob was disappointed.

A-A-A

It was a cool windy day when the taxi drew up in front of their home. People were out on the streets of Fort Greene, some holding hands with children as they crossed the lights, others walking their dogs or carrying bags of groceries. Rob stood up and stretched his long lanky arms high above his head, grateful to move his body so feely after the cramped plane ride.

"Just look at you. In six months time you'll be taller than Jason," his mother joked.

"He'll make a great basketball player. I saw several play courts on the way here and a lot of kids look like they're getting the best out the action," his father said.

He opened the door to their new house and everyone came inside. The wood from the floors gave off a faint dusty scent that reminded Rob of old bookstores. The rooms were filled with stacked furniture and boxes that his parents had shipped last week ahead before they arrived. Rob began to help his mother set up the dining room table and living room cabinets. When they were done with the larger pieces of furniture, he turned to leafing through boxes for various smaller objects.

Rob reached into one box and pulled out a screwdriver, a can opener, and box of rubber hands. He looked at his mother in confusion, wondering what to do with them.

She looked equally as perplexed as she pressed a hand to her mouth in thought. "Where's the rest of our appliances?" she asked aloud.

"How should I know? They scratched off some of the labels," his father grumbled. He kept moving boxes around looking inside at the contents.

Rob fumbled in the bottom of the box he was working on and pulled out a brass clock. His mother noticed it and knelt down beside him.

"Oh, I was just beside myself with worry if that thing broke. Thank you, sweetheart," she sighed with relief. She took the clock from Rob's hands and carefully placed it on the mantelpiece.

"Honey, our wedding anniversary gift arrived safe and sound."

"Well that's just great but can we get everything else opened up safe and sound?"

His mother handed him a stack of dish towels. "Would you put these in the kitchen drawer for me, Rob?"

He managed to step cautiously over most of the cartons in the kitchens and made his way to the drawers. They were stuck and Rob had to jostle them several times before they finally opened for him. An irritating squeaky noise filled the kitchen when the drawer slid out.

"I'll have to see about getting those fixed—if only I could I find my toolbox," his father griped. He stood in the middle of the kitchen with his hands on his hips, searching for the next box to open.

"Why didn't you throw away some of this junk before we moved?" he asked Rob. He shoved over two boxes with the words ROBERT BAKER marked in black bold letters before moving onto the china dishes.

Rob just snatched the boxes and hugged them protectively to his chest. This "junk" was the scrapbook of his mind. Poems, short stories, bits of epic tales, and even a written play had all been placed carefully aside. He never tossed out his work.

"Mom?"

"Your room is the second one on the right," she informed him. "You go on ahead and start unpacking your things." Grateful, Rob balanced the heavy box as he made his way upstairs.

His new room had the same smell as downstairs but it felt cold and bare. At least he enjoyed decorated the place. Rob started by unrolling the woven mats and spreading them out on the hard wooden polished floors. His writing desk and chair had already been shoved into one corner of the room from the movers but Rob wasn't content until he had dragged them over towards the window. Now he had a better view of the streets and could look out onto Brooklyn while he did his homework.

After wiping his hands free of dust, he put sheets onto the lower mattress of the bunk bed. He and Jason used to share it but now the entire bunk bed was for him alone. He could use the luxury of the top bunk to toss dirty laundry or dishes out of sight but Rob would have gladly given it up if only Jason were here.

Out came the rolled-up posters of Albert Einstein and Walt Whitman. A bit wrinkled, but no tears in the paper. He smoothed them out before carefully putting them on the wall with blue Tacky Stick. The calendar pictures graced his walls with sharp angular shots of skateboarders posed in the middle of daredevil stunts. While Rob wasn't prepared to take on 10-foot leaps on his skateboard, his set of wheels was still his favorite mode of transportation. The precious skateboard was slid under the bed for protection.

His writing work desperately needed to be relocated into binders and folders for further protection. Rob made a mental note to himself as he stacked all the papers together and put them into the bottom drawer of his desk. The model ship that he and Jason put together for Christmas was carefully placed on top of his shelves.

Finally, he finished with his most valuable possessions: his books. Rob had at least three dozen various forms of literature that had been packed away and brought with him from his past home. He pulled out a thick novel of O'Henry's short stories and set it on the shelf. Then came the _Chronicles of Narnia_, _The Great Gatsby, Ernest Hemingway's Greatest Works_, _Emerson and the American Scholar_, _The Glass Menagerie_, and a beautiful set of _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy bound in red leather and gold-rimmed paper.

He worked for nearly two hours before kicking off his sneakers and flopping down on the bottom bunk. Moving was exhausting work.

After a brief rest, he heard his mother calling him from downstairs.

"Rob! Dinnertime!"

He rolled off the bed and came down the steps. His parents had set up Chinese takeout food on the kitchen table. A few boxes still remained on the floor but at least the kitchen and living room looked like they were coming together.

His father looked up at him when he came into the room. "Did you get everything unpacked, son?"

"Yes, sir. My room's all ready to go," he answered.

"The neighborhood around here looks just marvelous. First thing tomorrow I'm going to go down the garden store and see what plants are in season," his mother announced.

"It's a little late in the year for gardening," his father said. Rob quietly slid into his seat and took an egg roll from one of the cardboard red cartons.

"Oh, I can keep a few small green bulbs on the windowsill and they'll be ready for open boxes by the spring," she assured him. Mrs. Baker scooped some spiced rice onto her plate. "And what plans do you two have coming up?"

"Rob and I are going to check out his school tomorrow. All right Robbie?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded obediently. Rob picked at his chicken uneasily. New places, new faces, and a new school. The same weary routine of trying to put a life together before having to pack it up and move on somewhere else.

_What could possibly make Brooklyn different from any other place I've lived?_

A-A-A

"Come on, Alex. One more bite of cake?"

The teen clutched his stomach and moaned. "Lenni, if I have even another crumb, I'm gonna explode!"

His sister Gaby laughed and swung her legs back and forth. "You should see how he eats fried chicken." She made snarls and grunts as she pretended to wolf down a piece of imaginary food. Her brother gave her a light punch in the arm.

"Thanks again, Lenni. It was delicious," Jamal complimented Lenni. She beamed proudly and began wrapping up the leftovers in aluminum foil. The rest of the members of the Ghostwriter team were all sprawled out on the couch and relaxing after an exciting party, great food, and lively dance music.

"This is so cool," Tina gushed, fingering the shiny black pen that hung from a cord around her neck. . "I can't believe I'm going to be talking to a real ghost!"

"Technically, you'll be writing to him instead of talking," Alex corrected her. "And don't forget. You promised never…"

"…to tell anyone about Ghostwriter," Tina finished his sentence. "Yes, I promise. I swear I'll keep this a secret."

Gaby was thrilled. The Ghostwriter team was on a roll, having just solved their second mystery. With Mr. Brinker arrested and Jamal's name cleared of any suspicion, they were celebrating in Lenni's apartment along with the newest member of the team. Gaby's stomach was full of yummy yellow cake and fluffy icing and her best friend would be cracking cases with her. Could life get any better?

"So that's you, me, Alex, Lenni, Jamal, and Craig," she counted off her fingers. "It looks like the Ghostwriter team is really branching out."

"Too bad Craig won't be able to hang out with us," Jamal said. "He goes to high school on the other side of town."

"Well, that's five members here already," Gaby pointed out. "Do you think anybody else will join the team?"

Jamal shrugged. "I can't say. The first time I asked Ghostwriter why he chose us, he said, '_Some things you just feel_'. If Ghostwriter knows what kind of people can help us then maybe the team can keep working on cases."

"Yeah! I'll bet the next mystery we have is going to be awesome. Who knows what else might happen?" Alex chimed in.

Everyone put their hands together in the center before throwing their hands up into the air in a whooping cheer.

"Ghooooooostwriter!"

A-A-A-A

_The next day:_

Rob tilted his head up to read the sign over his new school, Zora Neale Huston Middle School. At least it looked kind of nice...from the outside. And it wasn't too far from his home so he could get there and back on his skateboard. But the scene would be extremely different with hundreds of students flooding the hallways on Monday and he wondered how he'd bear it.

Ms. Kelly, the principal of Hurston, was certainly a friendly principal. She had curly blonde hair and a kind smile and looked at people squarely in the eye when she talked to them. She shook Mr. Baker's hand and then Rob's hand before taking them around the school. There was an auditorium used for performances, various science and computer labs, and a courtyard for recess. Rob longed to get a peek inside the school library but he didn't dare ask Ms. Kelly yet.

"We already started the track season but baseball tryouts will be coming up next month," Ms. Kelly was telling his father.

"That's perfect. I'm sure Rob will join one of the teams, won't you son?" Mr. Baker smiled, putting an arm around his son's shoulder. He gave his father a weak smile.

"Here's the computer lab," Miss Kelly said, ushering them into a large room full of blank screens. The sight of all those keyboards was making gears whirl in Rob's head.

"Can I come in here and do my work?" he asked breathlessly.

"The labs are generally full for computer class. But you're allowed to use them for personal use in study hall with a teacher's permission," she promised him. "And they're always available during after school programs as long as you save your work."

Rob glanced back at the computers hopefully.

A-A-A-A

The first few days of school dragged on. Most of the classes were easy enough for him to catch up on current topics but the constant humdrum and shuffling from lockers to classroom during breaks was tiresome.

Rob did his best to keep to himself and avoid talking with the other kids. He'd take his lunch tray to a secluded part of the cafeteria and write down his stories while he ate. Sometimes he'd get hit with a quick moment of inspiration and jolt down whatever he was thinking of. Other times he'd stumble across a great line from a story and copy it down for future analysis. Most afternoons he'd retreat to the computer lab and type out full paragraphs or correct any spelling mistakes in his short stories. It gave him something to do until the school was closing and he had to head home.

His secretive lifestyle was disrupted a month after the move. They were in language arts class, his last period of the day. The class had been taking turns reading 19th century American poetry over the last week. The whole lesson was an easy repetition for Rob, who recognized most of the authors from his own books. Rob's mind was wandering and he was doodling in a margin of his notebook when the teacher called on him.

"Rob?"

He dropped his pencil. The teacher was asking him a question.

"Would you mind standing up and reading the first stanza of '_Captain O' Captain_' aloud for us on page 84?"

Ah, Walt Whitman. Rob knew that one down pat. He rose from his seat, cleared his throat, and began to speak aloud:

"_O' Captain, my captain. Our fearful trip is done;_

_The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;_

_The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,_

_While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring"_

Still speaking, Rob closed his eyes and tried to imagine Mr. Whitman expressing his words.

"_But O heart, heart, heart!_

_O the bleeding drops of red._

_Where on the deck my captain lies,_

_Fallen cold and dead."_

"Rob?"

The teacher was starring at Rob with a puzzled look on his face.

"Is your textbook open?"

Rob looked down to see the shut book on his desk. A murmur of astonishment rippled across the classroom from the students as Rob quickly slid back into his seat.

"Did you just see that?"

"The dude just rattled off all the words!"

"Some kind of bookworm I guess…"

"….like a walking tape recorder."

"Must've been cheating to get ahead."

"That's so cool!" a female voice piped up. Rob tiled his head sideways to see a girl with long brown hair grinning at him. She wore a bright blue cap and matching floral print jumper with a long necklace of coral beads looped around her neck. Her big brown eyes shined in his direction.

"Did you already know that entire poem by heart?" she asked.

"Uh…yeah, I guess so," he mumbled.

"Woah, you must be really smart," she complimented him.

Before he could think of an explanation, the bell rang. Rob gratefully snatched his books and bolted for the door.

"Wait!" Lenni protested. "What's your…"

_SLAM!_

The door banged shut behind him.

Lenni's smiled turned down into a frown and she folded her arms across her chest.

"Hmmph!" she huffed to herself. "What's wrong with him?" She made a brief reminder to tell Alex and Jamal about the new kid as she packed her things into her bag and headed over to Jamal's house to work on their case.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't feel like staying in the computer lab that afternoon. Longing for some fresh air, Rob took a subway to Avenue J and used his skateboard to get up and down the blocks. He whizzed past mothers pushing strollers with babies, men coming in and out of restaurants, and throngs of students chattering store signs began a blur of colors as he pushed his foot against the ground and headed onto 19th street. After several minutes, Rob finally stopped in front of a coffee shop long enough to catch his breath.

A bunch of girls in long black skirts and navy sweatshirts were coming out of their school from across the street. A few were eying him suspiciously while others blushed and giggled among themselves, covering their mouths with their hands. Rob slowed down long enough to glanced at the writing on the doorway of the building: _Beth Jacob High School for Girls._

"Did you come to see the memorial?" a voice said behind Rob. He turned around to see one of the students looking a him, her hand gripping onto the strap of her backpack securely.

He looked up in curiosity. "What memorial?"

She pointed to a small side street that ran into an alleyway behind the school. "Just walk straight in the courtyard. It's free to the public. But hurry up because they close the gates when it's dark."

"Debbie!" somebody called her. "Are you coming or not?"

She waved back at her friends. "I'll be there in a minute, guys."

Debbie crossed the street while Rob walked around the corner to the alleyway.

He expected to find a concrete slab that served as a loading dock or some playground in the back of the school. Instead, he found a small grass courtyard contrasting to the brick and concrete walls. One could still hear the hissing sound of a subway train wheels going over tracks.

A rectangular monument caught the corner of his eye at the edge of the courtyard and he walked up to it for a closer look. It was five feet tall and carved from black marble. A large butterfly sculpted from metal was perched on top of the monument. It was painted in bright red and yellow colors and looked like some magical creature that had floated right of a children's fairy tale.

Rob noticed there were words engraved on the base of the monument and he bent over to read them:

_"The last, the very last_

_So richly, brightly, dazzling yellow._

_Perhaps if the sun's tears would sing_

_Against a white stone…_

_Such, such a yellow_

_It carried lightly way up high _

_It went away I'm sure because it wished_

_To kiss the world goodbye._

_For seven weeks I've lived in here,_

_Penned up in this ghetto._

_But I have found what I love here._

_The dandelions calls to me._

_And the white chestnut branches in the court._

_Only I never saw another butterfly._

_That butterfly was the last one._

_Butterflies don't live here_

_In the ghetto."_

"It's amazing, isn't it?" someone said. He turned around to see Debbie right behind him. "Pavel Friedman, from World War II."

Rob fumbled for his notebook inside his bag. "Is it all right if I copy this down?"

She shrugged. "Not like its going anywhere."

He pulled out his pen and carefully copied the entire poem into his notebook. Mumbling a quick thanks to Debbie, he stuffed the notebook back into his bag and quickly exited the courtyard. He had just left when another student walked up to Debbie.

"Hey, who was that?" she asked, jerking a thumb over her shoulder.

"I don't know. But I think he was looking for something," Debbie suggested.

A-A-A

Something nasty was going on in Hurston. It all began with the announcement of campaign elections in school. Four popular candidates were making the students buzz with vigorous enthusiasm. Kids got into his face, shoved flyers into his hands, offered him buttons and bracelets, all coaxing him to vote for them. He was completely uninterested in the whole rat race. The sooner the election was over, the better.

Rob flipped open his journal to yesterday's entry.

_ If the teacher hadn't called on me, I never would've had the guts to read Whitman aloud. I guess I was so wrapped up in the words that I didn't even realize my book wasn't open. The kids must think I used a magic trick to read them. What counts as "normal" here anyhow?_

_Dad's busy with work and Mom deals with it all right. Jason's away at his special school but sometimes I feel trapped in a world that keeps changing too fast. I know Dad wants what's best for me but it's not what I want for myself. I'm a writer. That's who I want to be._

Rob uncapped his pen and wrote down:

_That girl in class…Lisa? Lenni? I was getting stuff out of my locker today and she walked by me and said "Hello" before turning around the corner. I didn't know if I should've said anything so I just kept my mouth shut tight. She _looked_ like somebody I could trust but I don't want to start making friends again here. If I do, I'll just feel bad for losing them after my dad makes us move again. _

The school bell rang, declaring third period over. Rob shut his journal and headed over for the library for some extensive research.

A-A-A

The school library wasn't as big as the community public one but it had some interesting books for him to check out. Rob had searched up and down the shelves skimming books until he had checked out _A History of Anglo-Saxon Castles _and a special volume of Chinese folktales. Maybe some inspiration would come from there.

He had already settled on the protagonist and the mentor for his next short story. The main character would be named Josh. He'd be an average teenager but had some admirable qualities like bravery and trustworthiness. As for Josh's mentor, Rob hadn't thought of his name yet. He wanted to create a clever wizard who would challenge Josh and help him past his apprentice magic test.

In the computer lab, Rob's fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed up his story. His world became a quiet enclosed space of blue light and white letters as the sentences flowed together and his thoughts drifted across the screen.

"_The magic cup is known as the Sacred Chalice," the wizard told Josh. "With its power, an experienced magician can stream through a person's dreams and tell their future."_

_He poured a trickle of water into the magic cup. Josh watched the wizard wave his hands in the air and the water began to swirl around. He continued the mysterious movements until Josh could see red bubbles were floating out of the cup. They shimmered above his head like rubies._

_Josh's eyes grew wide with fascination. If only the wizard would keep teaching him magic, then he'd become a fully fledged apprentice in no time. He couldn't wait to get started!_

Rob was so engrossed in his story that he almost didn't hear the sound of footsteps coming up behind him. He saw their reflections in the computer screen but he didn't turn around. Instead of coming in and using the computers, both boys stayed crouched in the doorway looking at him. He could feel their eyes boring into the back of his head.

"_Attention everyone_," Miss Kelly's voice came over the intercom. "_After school activities have ended. The school will be closing in five minutes."_

Rob tried to ignore the boys as he hit the PRINT button. The machine sputtered noisily when it spit out the rest of his story.

One of the boys, an African American kid, followed him to the printer. "Hi. Working here for a while?"

Rob just shrugged and gathered up his papers. The kid kept looking over his shoulder at his work, making him uncomfortable.

"Been here for a couple days, maybe?" he asked.

"Maybe."

"I'm trying to find out if you saw anybody printing anything like this." He held up one of the flyers from the campaign. Rob had seen it before plastered on the walls about 500 times.

It had a picture of the other's boy's face drawn in a caricature style of him as a baby in a crib. The caption read ALEX FERNANDEZ SLEEPS WITH A MICKEY MOUSE NIGHTLIGHT. The whole thing looked so ridiculous that he didn't even think it was worth taking seriously.

Rob shook his head and gathered up his books. Why they'd be asking him about a crazy flyer was beyond him.

"This smear campaign is getting really ugly. Let us know if you know anything about this, ok?" the boy said.

Rob jutted his head in a nod before leaving the computer lab. He had half a mind to leave the school right away but he waited outside near the lockers, listening in on their conversation.

"Sounds suspicious if you ask me," one of them muttered to the other.

"Yeah, the guy is definitely hiding something," the other agreed.

"And he's always in the lab. What'd you think he was planning all this time?"

"There's only one way to find out. Keep an eye on him."

An icy stone of discomfort dropped into the bottom of Rob's stomach. What was wrong with those guys? Couldn't they just leave him alone? Why did they have to start making trouble for him at all?

The next day more flyers had been plastered on the walls. These said, "FRIED CHICKEN MAKES ALEX CRY. HOW CAN YOU VOTE FOR SUCH A WIMPY GUY?" It showed the same kid with tears in his eyes running away from a bucket of fried chicken.

Rob's face scrunched up when he read the signs. Some kind of war was going on and whatever outcome there was, it wasn't going to be pleasant. The best thing he could do was stay out of it and wait for the war to blow over.

He wrote up the next chapter of his story during fourth period. It would be a great climax when Josh would try to steal the magic cup and accidentally break it. He'd still have to take a test in magic. But what if Josh failed to become a master sorcerer?

Rob was getting a drink at the fountain in the hallway when another public announcement was heard.

"_Attention students, this is Ms. Kelly your principal speaking," _the voice came over the intercom.

"_Certain unauthorized flyers have been posted in the halls. These flyers are vicious attempts to sabotage one of the candidates. Any student caught participating in this smear campaign will be suspended."_

"Well if this isn't a picnic to party over," a snide voice spoke up.

A blonde-haired boy with a smug look on his face was looking right at him. His teal eyes sparked with mad mischief as they fixed on their target. Then the kid suddenly rested his elbow on Rob's shoulder as if they had been friends forever. Rob gave him a skeptical look. The kid didn't move an inch.

"You look like a guy with some brains. Think of voting for Jeffery Baxter?" the boy asked him. "I'm his campaign manager, by the way." He knocked a thumb against his chest proudly.

"Calvin Ferguson, at your service. And you are?"

Rob pushed his hand off. "Not interested."

Calvin didn't seem fazed. "Stubborn. I like that," he grinned, showing rows of even white teeth. "Hurston's always in the need of fresh blood. You're new around here, ain't ya?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well my friend, you couldn't have picked a better person to show you the ropes around the school. If Hurston is my castle then I am its grateful and lawful king, eager to serve the needs of all those talented youngsters out there," Calvin boasted. "Stick with me and I guarantee that your greatest heart's desires will be fulfilled in a matter of…"

"Thanks but no thanks," Rob interrupted, cutting off the infomercial. "I don't need to be shown around anywhere." He turned around from the weirdo and headed over to the cafeteria.

"Don't forget to vote!" Calvin hollered behind him.

A-A-A

Rob was ready to wrap up the next part of his story at lunchtime when he realized the papers were missing from his folder. Ugh, how annoying. He'd have to copy it all over again. Rob started rewriting what he remembered when he heard the sound of stomping footsteps.

Both of the kids from the computer lab had marched right up to him. The one with black hair had a furious look on his face as he shoved an accusing finger in Rob's face while the African American boy looked on quietly.

"Ok, admit it. It's you, isn't it? You're the one who's hanging up those smear flyers about me!" he declared aloud.

Rob blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about?" he asked, trying to keep calm.

"You know I'm running for president," Angry Boy fumed. "You probably planned this whole thing from the beginning of the school year, didn't you?"

Rob sighed wearily.

"Look, I just transferred here," he said in his defense. "I don't care what you guys do about your school politics,"

He wanted to get back to his story but Angry Boy thrust a paper out at him.

"Then how do you explain your confession? You admit that you're guilty right here."

Rob opened his mouth to protest that he had _never_ written a confession in his life but Angry Boy was reading the words on the paper.

"_He felt chocked with guilt…he wanted to come clean but he was too afraid to speak."_

Rob snatched the paper out of his hands. How _dare_ these creeps steal his work and then falsely accuse him!

"How'd you get this?" he demanded, feeling his face heat up.

"First you tell me," Angry Boy snapped.

"How'd you get this?" Rob repeated.

Angry Boy pounded a fist on the table. "If it's not a confession then what is it?"

The other kid put his hands out to keep them apart. "Hey, both of you, chill," he coaxed.

Rob quickly stacked his folders. "Look, just stay out of my way and stay out of my face," he glowered. Then he left in a hurry.

A-A-A

When he got home his mother was sitting at the kitchen table going through bills. She looked up when she heard the door close behind him.

"Hi, honey. How was school?"

"Fine." He kept his back to her while he leaned his skateboard against the wall.

"You got something in the mail," she said, handing him a slim envelope. "Are you all right? Your nose is all red."

"It's cold outside," he said quickly. Rob reached to wipe his face with the sleeve of his jacket but his mother had already handed him a tissue.

"We don't use sleeves for blowing in this house," she reminded him. "Didn't you take your windbreaker?"

He just dashed up the stairs to his room so he could blow his nose freely. Then he tossed the tissue into a wastebasket. His tingling hands quickly tore open the package. Inside was an envelope and something wrapped in light blue paper. Rob opened up the letter with a tingle of anticipation inside.

_Hey, Squirt_ the letter began. Rob felt a surge of joy. Jason!

_I know I haven't written in a while and I'm really sorry. School is going all right here in Washington, D.C. I still miss you a lot. Remember how we dressed up in those cowboy costumes for Halloween a few years ago? I had so much fun running up and down the streets in California with you. The kids here didn't so any of that stuff but we'll be decorating the auditorium for Thanksgiving. Hopefully I'll be able to come home for the holidays._

_How do you like Brooklyn? Have you made any new friends lately? I still miss you each and every day, little bro. I found this in the mall and bought it for you. I hope it brings you good luck._

_All the best,_

_Jason_

Rob unfolded the crinkly paper. Inside was a dark blue and white patterned bandana. As great as Jason's gesture was, Rob just wanted his brother back. He lay flat on his back on the bottom of the bunk bed and exhaled deeply. Slipping a pair of headphones onto his ears, Rob let the blaring sounds of radio music drown out his thoughts.

_A-A-A_

He was determined to keep his chin up that Friday. At least that's what Rob told himself as he tied Jason's bandana around his head. "I need all the luck I can get," he said aloud to the mirror.

When Rob got to school he noticed a lot of new flyers had been put up. They sported Angry Boy's face encircled with flowery hearts and a weird caption:

ALEX FERNANDEZ WROTE SECRET LOVE LETTERS TO HIS SCIENCE TEACHER.

No wonder Angry Boy was getting so mad at Rob. The guy was being thrashed by some jerk trying to humiliate him. Rob shook his head with disgust. Didn't somebody have anything better to do than hurl mud at other people? Words were supposed to be used to communicate, to bond, to feel. Not to destroy other people.

Despite the oddities of the new flyers, school wasn't half bad that day. There was an interesting slide show in science class and they had tacos for lunch. And neither of those boys had been interrogating him all day. Calvin stayed out his sight too. He should've felt relieved but he still couldn't shake off the strange tingly feeling that something strange was going to happen.

After his last period, Rob felt inspired to work on his story. He headed over to the computer lab and opened the door. Angry Boy's friend was already in there putting books into his backpack.

Suddenly, a swirl of green light became to glow on one of the blank computer screens. The kid must not have seen it because his back was to the computer. But Rob stood transfixed at the strange encounter. What was going on here? He didn't move a muscle; only his eyes were glued to the computer. He wondered what was causing the strange being. Was it some sort of a 3D computer game? Or a virus? And why didn't the kid notice it?

Slowly, the mysterious source of green light rose out of the computer and began to form words that floated in the air above the kid's head.

_GOODBYE JAMAL_ the green letters danced in air. Rob's eyes widened in shock.

"Goodbye Jamal?" he repeated aloud. The message continued to hover above his head. What was going on here?

The kid, Jamal, heard Rob calling him. "How do you know my name?" he asked.

Rob pointed a shaking finger at the words. Jamal saw it and backed away to the wall but his face showed more concern than fear. It was as if he had seen this before. And he wasn't looking at the letters so much as he was looking at _Rob_.

"You can _see_ that?" he in bewilderment.

The letters dissolved into a silvery trail of light. Rob expected it to vanish but instead, the trail of light dove like a comet right into the stack of books that he was carrying. He didn't know if he should run or stay put. What if that…that _thing_ sprang out and attacked him?

The trailing comet of light flew out of his notebook and spread across the room. New letters in silvery writing appeared where "Goodbye Jamal" once appeared. Only now, the message was different.

_HELLO, ROB_, the letters spelled.

The skateboard fell from Rob's limp hand and clattered to the ground. He reached up to touch the words but his fingertips drifted through them like there was nothing but air. The words dissolved into shivering silver ripples before there was a sudden flash of brilliance and they vanished.

Rob blinked twice. He was frozen in place, spellbound by the supernatural occurrence. An alien? A ghost? Where did it come from?

He stood immobilized for a few seconds, trying to collect his wits together. When Rob's heart had finally resumed its normal rate he realized that Jamal had already quietly exited the room. Rob didn't need to be told what to do next. He snatched his skateboard, dashed out of the computer lab, tore down the steps of the school, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He was absolutely terrified.

Hurston was haunted!


	3. Chapter 3

Rob spent most of the weekend hiding in his room and not speaking to his parents. If he told his father what he had seen, he would have thought Rob was being a terrible liar or gotten his head stuck in fantasy worlds for too long. Then he'd probably throw all of Rob's books out.

It didn't matter anyway because Rob was too afraid to read anything in case the words might jump out and attack him. He didn't even glance at a newspaper.

He had been lying on his bed for two hours when heard a soft knock on the door.

"Rob?" His mother opened the door and stuck her head inside. "Are you feeling all right?"

Silence.

"You look a little flushed. And you hardly had any dinner tonight."

He closed his eyes and said nothing. His mother shut the door and sat down at the edge of his bed. Somewhere off in the distance, he could hear the faint sound of a siren wailing down a street before dying out into silence.

"I know all of this moving can be very stressful for everyone," she said carefully. "And I know how especially difficult it must be for you to be starting somewhere new without your brother. But Rob, a family that is separated doesn't mean a family that is gone. We're still connected. Your father and I love you and Jason very much."

"I wish I was deaf," he blurted out. "Then at least I'd be with Jason."

He expected her to gasp and say, "Robert Baker! What a horrible thing to say!" Instead, he felt his mother rest a hand on his head and her fingers carefully stroke through his hair. It felt strangely soothing to him. Feeling childish, he rested his head against her shoulder for support. She wrapped her arms around Rob and pulled him closer to her.

"I wish Jason was here too," she said. "But its best for him to be in a special school with the people that can help him."

His mother began to rock back and forth like she used to when he was much younger. He wondered if she was having a better time adjusting to her position in the art gallery than he was in school. His mother was always such a practical level-headed person; she would make the best of any situation that the family got into.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Rob?"

"Do you believe in ghosts?"

"I know your father doesn't."

"But what about you?"

"Well, I suppose so," she said slowly, rocking back and forth. "There's a lot of things in this world that can't be explained."

A-A-A

After an agitated weekend of not eating his mother's lasagna, not reading Tolkien, and not sleeping for more than five hours a night, Rob was actually somewhat relieved to get back to school on Monday. He just hoped that the computer lab wasn't inhabited again by, er, unwelcome visitors.

Rob stopped off at the principal's office before his first class. Ms. Kelly was busy on the phone and looked very agitated. She had one of the yellow flyers clenched tight in her fingers while she talked.

"…of all the rules that we've enforced so far! This is unacceptable!" she exploded. "And yes, I've made it clear that these flyers are humiliating a student and degrading school spirit. But somehow they keep getting put up after closing hours."

Rob thought to wait outside but Ms. Kelly motioned for him for come in. He shut the door behind himself and approached her desk.

"Listen, I have a meeting but I'll call you back in half an hour," Ms. Kelly said. She hung up the phone before taking a minute to exhale deeply and adjust the collar of her jacket. Then her face smoothed over into a much calmer expression. She motioned for Rob to sit down.

"I wish you didn't have to see Hurston in the middle of all this mud slinging, Rob," she apologized.

"It's ok. I'm sure you'll find out who's doing it soon," he said, sliding into a chair.

"I certainly hope so." Ms. Kelly folded her hands together on her desk and looked Rob squarely in the eye. "So tell me, how are you doing so far?"

"Fine. Just fine," he lied.

"Are classes going all right?"

"Yup."

"Making some friends?"

"Uh-huh."

"Mr. Richards was telling me about your Walt Whitman recital in his class. He's very impressed with your knowledge of American writers."

Rob blushed modestly and starred at the floor. He didn't know how to return the compliment.

"Can I ask you something, Ms. Kelly?"

"Of course. You can ask me anything you want."

Rob nervously rubbed his fingertips together. "Do, um, strange things usually happen in Hurston?"

"If you mean smear flyers then answer is no. When the culprit is caught, he or she will be in serious trouble."

"No, I meant," Rob fumbled for the right words. "Very _very_ strange things happening. Like almost supernatural encounters."

Ms. Kelly looked a little puzzled. "I don't follow."

"Something like…like a weird computer virus. Or somebody's been manipulating letters on the walls."

"As far as I know, nothing like that has ever happened in Hurston." She leaned over her desk. "Why do you ask, Rob? What have you been seeing?"

He opened his mouth to speak but then quickly shut it. She'd probably never believe him either. Besides, if he publicized what he saw on Friday then the next smear flyer might just say ROB BAKER BELIEVES IN UFOS.

"It's nothing important," he sighed wearily. "Just wondering."

A-A-A

Lunch period was in full swing and the hallways that had formerly been flooded with kids were now empty. Rob turned on a computer in the lab and sat down in a chair. The clear blank blue screen starred back at him. So far, so good. He started to type in words.

_Words that fly_

_Magic words._

No, that didn't describe it properly. Rob took out the last sentence. He tried to remember what he had seen previously in the lab, those strange wispy glowing letters that startled him.

_Words that fly_

_Hanging in air_

_Maybe a friend?_

"Friend nothing," Rob said aloud. "I don't even know if I saw anything."

_Besides, I don't have any friends,_ he thought to himself bitterly. _I must have just been imagining something because I _wanted _it to happen. _

No sooner had Rob spoken when a stream of bold white letters began to materialize onto the screen right under the words he had typed.

I AM A FRIEND, ROB.

He yelped and jerked back against the wall. Should he run out of the room? Tell "it" go away? He didn't want to be talking to any strange phantoms, especially ones that tried to convince him that they were "friends".

And yet...he was just as curious as he was alarmed. He had to get some answers from "it".

Rob reached out with one hand and gingerly typed in words on the keyboard.

_Who are you? _

The answer came back across the screen.

MY FRIENDS CALL ME GHOSTWRITER

"Ghostwriter?" he whispered to himself. Rob told himself to calm down. If this "Ghostwriter" was going to hurt him, maybe it would have done it already.

Rob pulled his chair up closer to the screen. He typed in another question.

_How do you know my name?_

I'VE READ YOUR FINE POEMS, Ghostwriter answered.

"Hey!" Rob yelled. He typed a response angrily.

_My poems are private!_

SORRY.

He could imagine this "Ghostwriter" giving him a sheepish look of apology. He wondered who else knew about him.

_Why can't everybody see you?_

TALK TO JAMAL

"Oh no, no way," Rob protested. "Jamal hates me."

He sent the message to Ghostwriter who replied:

YOU CAN TRUST JAMAL. HE IS A GOOD PERSON. JUST LIKE YOU.

A-A-A

Rob found Jamal in the cafeteria with Angry Boy. They were eating hotdogs and talking together about the flyers.

"I still don't understand why a girl in Texas would care about a campaign election in New York," Jamal was saying.

"Catherine's the only one who knows all my secrets. She's the one!" Angry Boy said. They were so engrossed in their conversation that neither of them saw Rob standing behind them.

_Here goes nothing_, Rob thought to himself. He wet his lips and walked up to them.

"Hi, Jamal," he said softly. "Can I talk to you in private? It's about...Ghostwriter."

Jamal and Angry Boy exchanged serious glances. They must have known he wasn't bluffing.

"You'd better sit down," Jamal said, sliding over to make room for Rob. "So you know the secret. How'd it happen?"

"I was just writing in the computer lab and these letters suddenly appeared on my screen. And uh, he said he wants to be my friend," Rob admitted. Then he noticed Angry Boy was still glaring at him from across the table.

"Is he also…" he whispered to Jamal, pointing to the other boy.

"Hey! Ghostwriter was writing to me a long time before you," Angry Boy interrupted.

"Who else knows? Is there a whole league of secret people that know Ghostwriter?" Rob asked him.

Jamal opened his mouth to speak but Angry Boy cut him off. "You're still a suspect," he said to Rob.

"Oh come on!"

"Then what about your confession? Can you prove you're really innocent?"

"I don't have to prove anything," Rob retorted, rising to his feet.

"Hold it," Jamal intervened, putting a hand between them. "Nobody's accusing anything. We just need to figure things out. And Rob, it'd help if you shed some light on this for us." Jamal was doing his best to keep everyone cool and Rob wasn't to mess it up just because of some strange coincidence in meeting Ghostwriter.

Reluctantly, Rob took out the last part of his story. He handed it to Angry Boy along with his last piece that had been confiscated. Angry Boy read both pages aloud:

_Josh watched in horror as the magic cup slipped out of his hands, breaking into a million pieces. He had killed the magic! The wizard was going to be furious! _

_He felt chocked with guilt. He wanted to come clean but he was afraid to speak._

His eyebrows arched up. "Oh, I get it! This isn't a confession at all. It's just part of your story!" He handed it back to Rob who stuffed the story back into his folder.

"Wait, that's it?" Jamal asked. "What happenes next? What does the wizard do?"

"I haven't written it yet," Rob explained. "I've got another two or three chapters to go."

Angry Boy heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry I got up in your face like that. It's just this smear campaign is driving me crazy. By the way, I'm Alex Fernandez."

"Jamal Jenkins." He offered his hand to Rob, who shook it firmly.

"Rob Baker."

Rob noticed black letters starting to rise out of Alex's textbook and rearrange themselves on the page. "Look, he's writing! What's it say?" he asked.

Alex leaned over his textbook and read the words aloud. "_Do you want this clown to be your president?_"

"Uh-oh. Sounds like trouble," Jamal cautioned. Alex slammed down his napkin and got to his feet.

"Where are you going?"

"Creep hunting," Alex announced. With a glaring look in his eyes, he left the cafeteria.

"It's really getting to Alex," Jamal explained. "He's been working hard on this campaign and already several flyers have been going up. And besides, none of the other candidates are being smeared like him. So whoever is out to get him is making it personal."

"Yeah, being singled out isn't fun," Rob admitted. "But I hope you find out who's behind it."

Jamal slid a fresh tray over to Rob. "Here, you'd better eat something before lunch is over."

Grateful, Rob took one of the hot dogs from the plate and bit into it. He was actually hungry for the first time in three days. Having lunch with Jamal made him realize that these guys didn't look so bad now, once you got on their good side. The idea of having Ghostwriter hanging around them still felt bizarre to him.

"So do you know what's going to happen next in your story?"

Rob swallowed a mouthful of bun. "I have an outline. It'll help me work out the details."

"You've got a lot of suspense building up. What do you have in mind?"

"The wizard wants to forgive him but the council is furious with Josh because he was considered too young to learn magic back in chapter one. So they decide on a suitable punishment for him."

Rob thought that would be sufficient information but Jamal raised his eyebrows with interest. "Really? What kind of punishment."

"Well," he said slowly as the wheels turned in his head. "Josh is forced to take his apprentice test early. Because he destroyed an instrument of higher magic he's obligated to slay a dragon using only his rudiment magical skills."

"Woah," Jamal shuddered. "That's a really tough punishment for a 13-year-old."

"I know. But then I'm planning for a shocking twist," Rob said, feeling warmed up already. It had been a long time that he had found somebody who was interested in his stories and it made him feel pretty good about himself.

"Josh has already taken an oath not to kill any living creatures so he's in a bit of a jam. And even though the sacred chalice was destroyed, some of its magic rubbed off onto his fingers."

"So will he use the power?"

"Mmmm, maybe," Rob said with a wave of his hand. "I kind of want to keep the suspense. But the important part will be how Josh chooses to redeem himself _and_ correct his mistake without taking the life of a magical creature."

"Woah! That's really cool," Jamal said. "How do you come up with these great ideas?

Maybe it was from having a full stomach or the rush of excitement about a secret friend. Either way, Rob couldn't describe the good feeling of having the corners of his mouth pulling up into a wide grin.

A-A-A

Jamal filled Rob in on the details about their secret friend during study session in the library. Ghostwriter had appeared to Jamal one night on his computer screen with no warnings, no memory of who he was. He asked Jamal several questions that he couldn't answer because he didn't know how to talk to the mysterious being. It took Jamal and Lenni several tries until they could communicate properly with Ghostwriter. At first he said he was sad and lonely but when they promised to be his friends, he was saved from nearly vanishing out of existence.

Ghostwriter _did_ recall being human once; a long time ago. He couldn't hear or talk but he could read and write anything. Of course, not everyone could see him or the words he manipulated. Ghostwriter only revealed himself to certain people. Those kids who could see him were members of the Ghostwriter team, a group of young detectives that Jamal had initiated over two months ago. By transmitting words from one place to another, Ghostwriter had helped the team solve mysteries. He had even saved Jamal from getting arrested for a crime he didn't commit.

Jamal also told him that the first message Ghostwriter wrote was _"Help! Help! Help! Where are the children? Are they all right?" _Nobody knew what it meant but Alex believed it was a clue to the true identity of Ghostwriter. Perhaps Ghostwriter was somebody who wanted to help the children.

Rob had an idea. He sat down at a computer and typed in a message while Jamal looked over his shoulder.

_Ghostwriter, are you Lewis Carroll?_

White letters wrote back:

WHO?

Rob shook his head. He kept typing.

_Lewis Carroll was an author who wrote "Alice in Wonderland". I thought maybe that would help your memory._

I DO NOT REMEMBER ANYTHING ABOUT A GIRL NAMED ALICE BUT I WILL GO READ THE BOOK.

Rob folded his arms across his chest. "Well, that answers my question."

"What?" Jamal asked.

"I thought maybe Ghostwriter was somebody else in a past life."

Rob noticed Ghostwriter's question was still on the screen along with a funny white bubble under two curved lines. He pointed to the bubble. "Is that Ghostwriter?"

"Oh yeah," Jamal grinned.

The white bubble began to shimmer and change colors. It became a bright yellowish-golden color before floating out of the computer, over their heads, and through a wall.

"Woah!" Rob gasped. "Look at him go."

Jamal laughed. "Yeah, that's Ghostwriter for you."

A few minutes later, the glowing comet of light trailed back into Rob's computer.

I LOOKED INTO "ALICE IN WONDERLAND". IT'S A VERY FUNNY BOOK.

Rob had to resist laughing aloud in the lab.

_I'm glad you liked it, _he typed to Ghostwriter.

WHAT ELSE DO YOU LIKE TO READ?

"Do you have any more books on you?" Jamal asked him.

"I think so. Hang on a second." He let Jamal take the keyboard while he ran back to his locker and got out _The Glass Menagerie_, _The Adventures of Huck Finn_, _A Separate Peace_, and _The Giver_. He returned to the lab and stacked them all on top of the computer.

_Here are some of my books. I hope you enjoy them, Ghostwriter. _

THANK YOU.

He watched the glowing bubble begin to float up and down the books.

"Woah. I guess that's how he reads."

"He'll enjoy them."

Jamal took a look at the clock. "I've got to get going. Gaby Fernandez and I have karate lessons in half an hour."

"Karate?"

"Yeah, it's really awesome. Lots of practice and self-discipline needed but the moves are important too. And sensei Kamata is a great teacher. Maybe you should try it sometime."

"I don't think so."

Jamal didn't seem offended. "Well, I'm glad you got filled in on the team." He offered his hand to Rob, who shook it firmly.

"Yeah, thanks for telling me everything about Ghostwriter. I was kind of freaked out at first."

"No problem. We all were when we first me him."

Jamal waved goodbye and headed out the door. Rob drummed his fingers on the desk in thought. It was still very strange have this secret connection with other kids about Ghostwriter but Jamal was the kind of person he felt all right talking to. At least Rob wasn't the first person to be scared of Ghostwriter. Maybe he wouldn't be the last. Maybe there'd be something else to look forward to.

A-A-A

"You're late," his father said. Rob quickly slipped his bright red bandana off his head and stuffed it into his pocket before coming into the living room. His father began to fold up the newspaper he was reading.

"I was talking to some of the kids after class," he explained.

His father gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Good. Glad to hear you're making friends around here, Robbie. Thinking about those teams yet?"

"Well, they're already sort of busy," he started to say. Fortunately, his mother came into the room and saved him from any further excuses.

"Thank goodness you're home, Rob. Would you mind picking up my jacket from the shop before it closes? It's just a few blocks away."

He took the receipt from her and skateboarded over to 36th Street and Avenue P. The Nguyen Tailor Shop was a small but neat store that he had never seen on the inside before. Bolts of fabric in fancy designs stacked up on the shelves. There were racks of colorful buttons spread out on a table. He noticed some exotic looking posters on the walls with designs that he had never seen in museums before.

A small girl of about four years old was sitting on a bench. She was singing a song while she played with her doll but she looked up with interest when Rob came into the store. He carefully set his skateboard against the wall. The lady at the front said something and a girl a little younger than himself came out from the back room. Her long shiny black hair was braided down her back and tied with a red ribbon.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm here to pick up a jacket for Mrs. Baker on 1482 7th Avenue." Rob handed her the receipt and she wrote something down on her pad of paper.

"Just a minute. I'll get it from the back."

"Tina? Can I have a cookie?" the smaller girl asked her.

"When I'm done, Linda."

Tina took his receipt and started to go through a rack of clothing. The other girl, Linda, starred up at Rob with wide expressive dark eyes. Then she hopped off her seat and walked over to his skateboard. She poked it. She scratched the rough surface with her nails. Then she started tapping against it with her knuckles.

"Linda, leave his skateboard alone."

Linda pushed the skateboard so it wobbled forward and fell onto its wheels. CLANG!

"Linda!" her sister scolded her. "Don't touch other people's things."

"It's ok," Rob assured her. He bent down so he was eye to eye with Linda. She looked at him and then back to the fascinating skateboard.

"Would you like to try it?" he offered her. Linda nodded eagerly.

He helped Linda climb onto the skateboard and held her hand while she wobbled back and forth in place.

"Woah! You're really good," he complimented her. Linda beamed at him.

Tina came back holding a wool gray jacket on a hanger. "I'm very sorry about that, sir."

"It's ok. I always used to play with my brother's things too."

While the girl wrapped the jacket up in a plastic bag, Rob noticed one of the paintings over the cash register. It had the picture of a long snaky dragon painted in vibrant orange and pink colors and sporting golden claws. The dragon's body curved lithely around a pale blue pond of water several times before its tail came to a slender tapering end in the far left corner of the painting. A large white ball was tucked into the dragon's mouth.

"That's a really cool painting," he said aloud.

"Thank you. My parents brought it from Vietnam. It's a style from the Ly dynasty," she informed him.

"And what's that?" Rob pointed to the white ball.

"It's a pearl. It represents knowledge and humanity."

"Wow."

Rob paid for the jacket and left the shop. He sat down on a nearby bench and made some adjustments in his journal.

_Maybe things aren't always what they seem. When you're so used to seeing things with your eyes one way it's a challenge to change your perspective. Maybe that's something I can do here in Brooklyn. If dragons symbolize good things then can a change really become a good opportunity?_

Opportunity. That gave him food for thought. He slung the jacket over his shoulder and headed back home.


	4. Chapter 4

Rob was on his way to the cafeteria the next day when he noticed Jamal, Lenni, and Alex surrounding Calvin Ferguson near the lockers. While the three of them were glaring furiously, Calvin was smiling back like the cat that had gotten the cream. He listened from around the corner to hear what was going on.

"You'd better confess Calvin," Lenni warned him. "Tell the principal."

He tossed his head back with a gleeful laugh. "In your dreams. And besides, you Care Bears are way too nice to do anything about it." With a wave of his fingers and a nasty smirk, Calvin walked off.

Alex punched a fist into his hand. "Oooh! I'm gonna smear him all over the wall," he growled.

"What are we going to do? We've got to stop him before that last flyer about the clown suit comes out."

"Yeah. I wish he knew how it felt to be humiliated like that."

Jamal slapped his hands together. "That's it! I know how we can get Calvin to confess _and _know what it's like to be smeared."

It was only when school ended when Jamal approached him with the answers.

"Yo, Rob! Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked. Rob put down his skateboard long enough for Jamal catch up with him.

"Remember what I told you about the Ghostwriter team and all that stuff?"

He nodded.

Jamal clasped his hands together in front of his face. "Can you do something for us right after school?"

"What is it?"

Jamal glanced over his shoulder to make sure that nobody else was eavesdropping on them. "We need you to go to the Party Animal and talk to Calvin's mom. She's usually behind the counter bragging about how great Calvin is."

As friendly as Jamal was, Rob didn't want to get dragged into any schemes. "I usually go to work in the computer lab," he started to excuse himself.

"It'll only take a few minutes," Jamal said. "Just get Mrs. Ferguson to talk about how great her son is. She adores him. We need to find out as much dirt as we can about him."

So, the Ghostwriter team wanted to get back at Calvin? And they wanted Rob in on their great plan? It sounded like a job for a talented writer. They must trust him enough for an important mission. But how far did Rob want to stick his face in anyway?

"I don't know," he said slowly.

"Look, Calvin's the one who's been smearing Alex. I know what you're thinking so don't worry. We're not going to put up posters about Calvin all over the school. We just want him to come clean and tell Ms. Kelly what he did. That's all."

Rob looked down at his shoes.

"Please, Rob," Jamal pleaded. "You're the only one who can go there without being noticed. Calvin and his mother would recognize us in a flash. And Calvin already hates us."

"Why?"

"It's the Ghostwriter team, man. We busted some backpack thieves on our first case and Calvin got really jealous. He told me that he'd be watching us all the time."

"I'll think about it." He started to head into the computer lab.

"Please try! If you do, meet me here after school!"

He mulled it over while he sat in his chair. It sounded risky, but oddly kind of fun at the same time. Here was a chance to write something new, something daring and exciting. And besides, Jamal was right. Rob was the only one who could get the information needed.

He had the impression of a thrilling story spinning in his head. _Deep in enemy territory, world famous reporter Robert Baker hones in on the best scandal of the century. With his pen at hand, he creates page-turning articles and stories of great suspense. Millions are stunned to discover that the charismatic Calvin Ferguson is really a first class fool._

Well, it wouldn't hurt to try. Besides, it wasn't fair for Calvin to get away with smearing Alex.

Rob picked up his skateboard and headed out the door. Fifteen minutes later, he was at the Party Animal store-or the Twilight Zone. Classical music drifted through the air but even the sophisticated touch couldn't tone down the cheesy grinning logos of animals that were decorated on the store balloons. He noticed a line of ugly green two-headed masks mounted on styrofoam heads. A bright red parrot kept blinking at him hysterically from the cash register.

He approached a chipper looking lady who was standing at the front counter.

"Excuse me, but is Calvin Ferguson here?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "No, my son is still in school. But he should be here at four o'clock if you need him. Calvin's always punctual, that's a given. I never have to worry about my son being late for anything. In fact, he's usually ten or twenty minutes early."

She said this all in a single breath and very fast. Jamal certainly wasn't exaggerating.

"He's handsome! He's punctual!" the parrot squawked abruptly. Rob almost jumped back ten feet.

"Oh, and this is Attila, Calvin's best friend. Attila, say hello to…"

"Rob Baker. I go to school with Calvin," he said, trying to be polite as possible. "Then you must be Calvin's mother?"

"Yes I am!"

Rob put on his best smile. "Wow. Now I know where he gets his good looks from."

"Calvin's good looking! Calvin's good looking!" the parrott shrieked.

If there was sarcasm in Rob's voice, Mrs. Ferguson didn't hear it. She gave a perky laugh and fluffed up her hair.

"Why, thank you! Calvin's always been a handsome boy. Why, I remember when he dressed up for Halloween at the age of eight. Oooooh, he was the cutest dalmatian ever!"

"I'll be he was," Rob said, ever so slightly leaning over the counter while he slid out his notebook and uncapped a pen. "And Calvin's also a very talented student in class."

"I know! And a fine athlete too. Calvin's so good at basketball and swimming. Oh, he's a wonderful swimmer. He never gives up, not even when things don't turn out so well for him. Why, I'll never forget the time we took Calvin to Coney Island one weekend and just as he dove into the water for a swim, a wave blew off his swimming trunks!"

Rob stifled his laughter with a cough. "That's terrible," he said as he added this down. Mrs. Ferguson was so caught up with her prattling that she hardly noticed Rob's pen quietly and quickly moving across the paper.

"I know. The poor dear had to wait until dark to get them back on. But he kept treading water like a diligent boy always does, never complaining even once. Why, I'll bet Calvin could swim the English channel if he tried!"

"Attila must be a good friend. I don't know many smart guys who own parents."

"Awk! You're brilliant, Calvin!" Attila squawked again.

Rob cleared his throat. "Does he have any other pets?"

"No, but Calvin does sleep with his booger bat. He looks so cute all cuddled up with that little widdle fluffy green monsters in his bed. And did you know that Calvin was even reading bedtime stories to me instead of the other way around! He always enjoyed singing along with the _Purple Peachtree Gang _and all of their tapes before brushing his teeth…"

By now, Rob was biting hard on his cheeks to contain himself. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up. He kept hunched over the counter listening to Mrs. Ferguson rant and rave about her "wonderful" son, only to have Attila interrupt with an occasional flattering comment for Calvin as well. He nodded and hummed and said "really?" and "fascinating" for as long as he could.

After nearly forty minutes, he had compiled seven pages full of humiliating facts about Calvin Ferguson. That should be enough for Jamal and his friends. It had been a surprising but very satisfying venture after all.

"Well, it's been really nice talking to you Mrs. Ferguson," he said, sliding his notebook back into his bag. "But I really have to get going. Thanks for a great chat."

"Oh, please come again!" she sang merrily, waving her fingers at him as he started to leave the store. "It's always nice to see one of Calvin's many friends."

"Come again! See Calvin the Amazing!" Attila chirped.

Rob waited until he had left the Party Animal to collapse against a wall and laugh as hard as he could. He laughed long and hard for nearly ten minutes until his stomach shook. Jamal deserved a proper thank you for giving him this mission. Rob hadn't had this much fun in a long time.

A-A-A

When he got back to school, Rob noticed two of them standing near the lab. Jamal kept twisting his hands together nervously and Lenni was glancing up and down the hallway.

"I'm back!" Rob shouted. He ran up to them and showed them his folder.

"What's this?" Lenni asked.

"Your information. I just came from the Party Animal," he said. There was a hint of pride in Rob's voice that he couldn't resist letting out.

Jamal's eyes lit up. "You did? That's great! Did you get her to talk?"

"Man, she wouldn't shut up!" Rob exclaimed. "Neither would that parrot."

"Attila," Jamal laughed. "We've seen her before."

"Awk! You're brilliant, Calvin!" Lenni mimicked in a squeaky voice. "So did you get any dirt?"

"I got a whole mudslide", he announced. The sheer look of delight on their faces was refreshing. Jamal took the envelope and shook Rob's hand.

"Thanks, man. You're a real pal."

"Hey, no problem," he shrugged it off.

"No, really. This is going to help put Calvin in his place for good."

A-A-A

Jamal showed him the fruits of their labors the next day right before school elections. For the second time in two days, Rob started cracking up uncontrollably. Jamal had drawn a caricature of Calvin in the ocean, his arms crossed across his chest and a pouting frown on his face. The caption read CALVIN CAUGHT WITH PANTS DOWN.

"You're a really good artist," he said in between laughs.

"Thanks. Check out the other one," Jamal offered. It showed a squealing baby-faced Calvin whining and clutching a stuffed animal. CALVIN'S BATTY ABOUT HIS BOOGER BAT read the flyer.

"So what happens now?"

"It already happened this morning. We put a layer of papers on top of a box and told Calvin that it was chock full of dirt about him. And that we'd smear all of them across the school hallways unless he confessed to the principal."

"Did he?"

"Are you kidding me? Calvin sang like a bird. He blabbered about everything and how he got the information from Alex through a pen pal of his and printed out hundreds of flyers in the school basement to put up. Ms. Kelly had him suspended for a week. And Calvin looked pretty made when he found out we tricked him with a fake box of flyers."

"Yeah, I'm glad you didn't put them up. It'd be just like fighting fire with fire."

"No sweat," Jamal assured him. "He just got a taste of his own medicine."

After the election, Alex thanked him in person as well. "You saved my face Rob, I owe you for that."

"It's nothing," he assured him. "I'm sorry you still lost the election to Janet."

Alex shrugged. "It's ok. Janet had a good plan for everyone. She was working hard on saving the school teams while I was just worried about saving my reputation. Now Hurston's got a good class president and I'm off the hook."

Rob was about to head home when Alex stopped him.

"Do you want to come hang out at my place? We're all celebrating another victory for the Ghostwriter team."

"No thanks. I don't do teams," he said. Rob kept his head down while he walked away, much to their curious surprise. It was one thing to lend a hand but another thing to join up for good.

He had only walked a few steps when Rob noticed the bulletin board next to him was glowing. Bright red letters had been rearranged with a new message from Ghostwriter. It said _Take a chance on friends_

He glanced back at Lenni, Jamal, and Alex wistfully. Boy, did they look like they were having fun laughing and talking among themselves. He almost wished he was standing with them and cracking jokes together. But not this time. He wasn't sure about making friends right now.

_But maybe next time?_

A-A-A

Rob's arm was almost cramping from the many pages he had written but he was very satisfied with his work. The lamp on his desk gave off a safe warm glow against the dimming darkness of Brooklyn. He enjoyed working at his desk after dinner. He put down his pen and re-read part of his letter.

_I still miss you more than you can ever imagine, Jason. I even pile all my old laundry on the top bunk to keep it full but it's still not the same without you._

_I'm starting to kind of like it here in Brooklyn. I've met a few kids who are really smart and funny. They asked me to go on a secret mission and I helped them to catch a creep at school. It was really cool getting to do spy work and writing at the same time. They seemed to like my stories too. One of them read part of my story and actually believed I had written a confession! I guess that's a good sign when they take your work so seriously._

_I think they want me to hang out with them but I'm still a little scared in case it's too good to be true. Somebody said I should give friends a chance. Do you think it's ok to go running after a dream even if you might wake up from it?_

He put down his pen long enough to rest his head in his hand and gaze out of the window. Night was descending upon New York. Some people would be turning off their lights and falling into deep sleep. But for others, the lights would continue to burn. With candles from restaurants and the flashing glamour of Times Square, there would be shows, parties, clubs, and adventures blazing long and full into the night.

That's what made New York so interesting. There were so many fascinating things to find: butterflies, jokes, creeps, dragons, memories, mysteries, and of course, ghosts. And special friends. Rob wondered if Jamal and the others were working on another mystery right now. If they did, maybe next time they'd ask him to join them again. Maybe he'd accept their offer.

Rob turned over to the last chapter of his story.

_The red dragon raised a clawed hand into the dazzling star-lit sky and shook it hard. Golden scales began to fall off his skin and fall to the ground like floating leaves. Josh watched one of them land upon the shining shards of dust. In a brilliant flash of light, he saw the tiny pieces fusing back together. The magical cup had been restored!_

_He gathered up the talisman in his cupped hands and looked at his new friend with awe. Josh bowed in deep reverence to the dragon. "Thank you, Spirit of the Sun. I can't thank you enough for this!"_

_Twin trails of smoke drifted out of the dragon's mouth as he nodded slowly. "You have proven yourself to be most worthy by sparing my life and fighting off the Storm of Darkness," he said to the boy. "In return, I have restored what is precious to you. But you must be more careful next time."_

"_I promise. Oh, I promise I will," Josh nodded eagerly. "I won't ever misuse this magic again." He watched the long scaly crimson dragon rise up into the air and fly off into the night._

_From behind him, the head of the council clapped his hands together in approval. "I see you are wise for one so young, Josh. Your courage and determination has made me reconsider your future. You will be granted the full rights of an apprentice in the art of wizardry and magic."_

The familiar bright bubble of light flickered over Rob's page. He watched the letters spin around in spirals before a new message appeared on his paper in a shower of gold dust and sparkling letters. Rob grinned as he read what Ghostwriter had written.

GREAT STORY!

End


End file.
